


Caught In The Undertow

by TF_Pratchet



Category: Inside Out (2015)
Genre: Anger, Angst and Feels, Apologies, Awkward Conversations, Dreams and Nightmares, Explanations, Fear, Feelings have feelings, Frustration, Gen, Getting to Know Each Other, Hurt No Comfort, Late at Night, Night Terrors, Panic Attacks, Pre-Movie(s), Roughness, Worry, discomfort, fretting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-02
Updated: 2015-12-02
Packaged: 2018-05-04 12:47:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5334623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TF_Pratchet/pseuds/TF_Pratchet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anger hasn't cared much about getting to know Fear, but now Fear is affecting the both of them and that's certainly not good (or allowed)!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Caught In The Undertow

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Standstill](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4257657) by [UntoldStories](https://archiveofourown.org/users/UntoldStories/pseuds/UntoldStories). 



> Note: This story is set pre-movie, when Riley is younger and the Emos haven't had as much time together, so they still getting used to each other.

It was something harsh and tinny, something that poked and prodded at the corners of his awareness and gradually brought him around as it grew in volume. Anger opened his eyes just enough to narrow them in frustration.

Perhaps he should have been used to this after— _Ugh, 365 days…times seven years…_ —far too many nights of it, but it was still just as aggravating as always. Anger could already feeling the top of his head starting to steam.

Kicking away his blanket with a growl, he hopped down from his bed and stormed out into the hall connecting all of their bedrooms. It was a short distance— _too_ short— to the source of the noise and to prove this he prepared himself to slam the door open with no hint of subtlety. That usually stopped the irritation in its tracks.

Even as he backed up for the run-and-lunge, the mewls swelled and eventually burst from the strain, causing Anger to uncharacteristically falter.

Fear was screaming. There was a brief pause, filled with a shaky gasp, and then another, shorter cry. After that there was nothing.

His simmer cooling into a vague, somewhat puzzled sort of glower, Anger approached the door, kicking it ajar. If he were honest, he was surprised that it wasn’t locked. Fear usually thought it an obligation to lock the door and if Riley had a particularly nice day, barricade it, as the skittish Emotion apparently ‘knew’ that it was too good to be true.

Today had been ‘fraught with dangers’, in Fear’s words. He’d been at the console most of the time, keeping Riley so far away from traffic that she hesitated at the WALK indicator, almost until the cars were cleared to go past. So a full day of work for him had…made him more trusting about leaving his door unlocked?

It probably shouldn’t surprise Anger that he was so screwy. He pushed this thought out of his mind and nudged the door further open, peering into the room. He’d never actually been in the bedroom before and usually didn’t care to think about what it might look like.

It was…bare. Nothing on the floor (no tripping hazards allowed), no color on the walls (not a chance of noxious fumes from the paint), and no furniture except the nightstand, a tall lamp with a thoroughly encased cord, and the bed in the far right corner.

In the bed was…no one?

But he had definitely heard him. That was what had caused Anger to come in the first place. Frowning more deeply, he shuffled just inside, squinting and looking toward the source of the faint purple glow.

Of course Fear had a nightlight. And immediately next to that light was a thin mass, enveloped with a blanket. All that could be seen of the other Emotion were his hands, fisted so firmly into the blanket that his fingers were leaving creases and creating folds as they held the coverlet in place.

Anger felt a rise of impatience, embers on his head adding to the brightness of the room. Stalking over, he seized the blanket and tugged it out of Fear’s rigid hands with more effort than he cared to admit. Fear reacted by shielding his head with his arms, quaking.

“What’re you doing?” Anger demanded, tossing away the blanket and looking him up and down. Fear’s knees were curled so tightly against his chest that in the shadows it looked like he was swallowing himself. The fact that he was shielding his head with his arms only added to this illusion.

Fear released his breath in a harsh wheeze, rocking back and forth and spewing out a stream of disjointed nonsense. “Th-the—I thought—it wasn’t clear—a-and there was a-a-a—”

“Forget I asked,” Anger grumbled, turning back toward the door. In this state, he doubted Fear would sleep again tonight; therefore there would be no more whimpers disturbing him.

“I c-couldn’t prot-t-tect her.”

Anger realized he would probably regret the glance he cast over his shoulder. Sure enough, Fear was staring after him miserably. Anger ground his teeth but gave in to the unspoken plea, throwing himself down where he was, folding his arms and glaring at the nightlight. If looks could kill, he was sure the nightlight would poof itself out.

“I couldn’t p-protect her,” Fear repeated, his voice less wobbly but more…haunted. Hollow. “S-She didn’t look both ways…and…”

Anger pressed his mouth into a thin, harsh line and peeked at Fear another time. He was looking at the wall on the opposite side of the room, his gaze glassy with tears ricocheting the nightlight’s glow, causing his violet irises to practically _burn_ with their pain.

“Sorry,” Anger finally muttered. It was all he could muster; moments of sensitivity made him uncomfortable.

Fear did that disconcerting shudder-gasp again and ducked his head, drooping in a Sadness-like fashion. “Riley doesn’t understand the world she’s in,” he breathed. “She’s so… _small_. And there’s only so much I can do—” He stifled a sob which sounded rather sick, forcing the rest of the words out in a rush: “—beforeshegetsreallybadlyhurt.”

Squirming, Anger wondered what any of the others might do in this situation. Disgust probably wouldn’t have stayed in the first place. Why had he? Joy would whisk these ideas away, tuck him back into bed and then bolt, thinking her relief wouldn’t show. Sadness would probably just mope and make him feel worse by confirming his—well, his fears.

He wasn’t any of them.

“Riley doesn’t need her emotions running her life,” he said gruffly. “It’s not your job to keep her safe—it’s _hers_. Let her think for herself; you’re just there to help.”

Fear perked up, blinking in disbelief and rubbing at the tears that spilled over. Did he believe what Anger was saying? Who could tell?

“Anyway,” Anger continued, “she’s asleep right now. Nothing’s gonna happen. Go back to bed and stop worrying.”

He had a feeling this was going to be easier said than done for his coworker, but he rose to his feet and picked up the blanket, tossing it in Fear’s direction and making sure he knew this wasn’t up for debate. Fear rose, pulling the blanket closely around his slim frame. Still, he hesitated.

“Anger—”

“No,” he snapped, grabbing Fear’s elbow and bodily steering him toward the bed. “Whatever it is, no.” There was only so much one could take _or_ give!

Fear curled into a ball, breathing shallow as he watched Anger go for the door. “I just wanted to say I’m sorry for waking you up,” he whispered apprehensively. “I-It won’t happen again.”

Anger huffed, muttering a grudging “Thanks” almost as an afterthought. He wasn’t sure if Fear heard him as he pulled the door solidly closed. He didn’t bother checking on whoever was on Dream Duty, stalking into his own room and trying to do as he had suggested to Fear, but even he couldn’t help but fret after that conversation. Fretting is a form of anger, Mom always said, anger that you can’t control the situation. He fretted more often than any of the others knew.

Or would _ever_ know, he reminded himself sternly. They had no reason to know; they were all content in their happy—or sad—roles. Anger was, according to the world, a ‘negative’ emotion. Anger made people reckless. Fear, though also ‘negative’, made people cautious. Even that skinny coward had a way of helping their girl. What could _he_ do for Riley, other than make her lash out? Other than make her blind and stupid and wounding to others?

Fear ought to be glad he could help. If there was a day when the resident hothead was stationed at the controls too long, Anger suspected Fear would _need_ to.

In any case, neither of them got back to sleep; Anger knew this for certain. For the rest of the night, listening to the all-too-clear strains of sobbing from the other bedroom, he fretted and simmered.

**Author's Note:**

> My first Inside Out fanfic and it turns out Sad... D: I hope it was good regardless; feedback is very welcome.


End file.
